Pumpkin Pie
by Noir Lime Canuto
Summary: "Rosie, Uncle Harry mentioned that that Scorpius boy..." Oh Merlin, not this again. It's like I'm lying to him, except I'm angry at him for not already knowing. My knife clinks into the plate. This time I've pressed down too hard. Not SM/RW. Fluff-ish.


Disclaimer: _Harry Potter is the property of J.K. Rowling. I am in no way affiliated with her. This is not a profitable work. No copyright infringement is intended._

** Slice of Pie**

It's taking me forever to cut off that one little triangle of pumpkin pie. I think my hand is shaking. I'm focusing more on keeping the knife steady than really pressing down at all.

I hear Hugo's fork clink against his plate, indicating he's already finished his first piece. He's probably glaring across the table at me now. I have to finish mine before he can have seconds.

"Rosie, Uncle Harry mentioned that that Scorpius boy..."

Oh Merlin, not this again.

Here comes the lecture on how I shouldn't be spending so much time with Scorpius, and how Al is a perfectly suitable friend. They're both my best friends. Fred, too.

Dad doesn't really care about me being friends with him, though, he's afraid we're in love. Roxy teases me about it all the time. She's just upset that she's not dating Scorp, though. She can have him, whenever he notices how much he stares at her. I won't be the one to tell her.

"...Now, this isn't just Scorpius, Rosie, I'm walking about boys in general..."

He wouldn't be giving this speech if Mum were home. She's working late at the ministry. Some big conference this week. She always shuts him up. She trusts me. Besides, she already knows.

Everyone already knows. Well, nearly. Scorp, and Al, and James, and Lily, and Fred, and Marcus, and even Hugo. And obviously Eve.

Dad doesn't know. I want to tell him, but I dunno how he'll take it. I want to tell him so much. I know he loves me, he says he'll always love me, but he has no way of knowing that maybe he won't. He doesn't have any idea, even. Just listen to him. On and on.

I think I've taken three bites. My apple pie isn't even halfway done. I expect Hugo do cough, or something, to try to hurry me up, but maybe I'm not kind enough to him. I hear him try to change the subject.

"Hey, Dad? Did you hear the cannons...?"

"Not now, Hugh. Anyway, Rosie, as I was..."

Can he see? On my face? How hard it is?

It's not like I've got some sort of self-loathing. I love who I am. I just wish I could shout at Dad, shout who I am. It's like I'm lying to him, except I'm angry at him at the same time for not already knowing. For not somehow magically figuring it out. There's actually probably a spell for it.

My knife clinks into the plate. This time I've pressed down too hard. For the first time since Dad began I look up at him, and he pauses in his speech, expecting me to say something.

I make to inhale, but my chest tightens. True to Gryffindor form, I stand up. I'm careful to set my fork and knife neatly at the side of my plate.

Dad looks confused now. He wonders if he's gone too far in lecturing me. I can see in his eyes, he's retracing his words, trying to figure out which sentence it was that he's going to get scolded for. He's a little bit afraid of me sometimes. Less than Mum but more than Hugo. Says I remind him of Mum.

"For your information, Dad," I begin, quietly. This seems to scare him more. "I do not need your advice on boys. Nor will I ever. For—for your information," I try to keep my voice calm, but I can feel my tone getting a little higher pitched, "I am not dating Scorpius Malfoy. Nor will I ever. I—I am, however, seeing Evelyn Wood. And—and I hope I always will be."

Before he has time to hate me I run upstairs. Well, fast-walk upstairs. Running would be dangerous. I make it to my room and curl up on my bed, over the covers.

I wish Eve were here now. She'd know what to say. I'm not crying, but I'm shaking. I'm scared. I need a hug. I wish I could hug Dad, but maybe I'll never be able to hug him again. Maybe. Maybe.

There's a knock on the door. I don't answer.

Hugo walks in, a piece of pie on a plate with ice cream on the top. He closes the door, then turns back and sits next to me on the bed.

His eyebrows knit together at he searches my face for the tear tracks that aren't there, then he smiles timidly and murmurs, "I brought you some pie. You didn't finish your piece."

I laugh too loudly at this, and tell him he can have it. He just sets it down on my nightstand.

I realize, at this moment, that sometimes I don't give Hugo enough credit. He literally just chose me over food. Food. As in, his favourite thing ever.

I sit up next to him, and I wish he would hug me, but I'm too afraid to ask. Instead, he looks down and takes my hand. God, his hand is bigger than mine. I guess it's fair, since he's a boy, but I'm older so I always expect to be bigger than him, even though I haven't been for years.

We sit there for Merlin knows how long, just holding hands, looking down at our laps. Then I ask, quieter than I meant to, "How did Dad take it?"

A small smile graced Hugo's face, then he answered, "He sort of sat there for a while, taking it in. Then he looked at me like it had just happened, and said, 'Does Mum know?' and I said, 'Yeah,' and he said, 'How long?' and I said, 'Ages,' and he just nodded sort of glumly and said, 'Figures.'"

I'm not sure what to make of this, so Hugo goes on.

"I think he was just upset that you told Mum first. You know how competitive he is. Besides, you two've got that sort of thing, yanno?"

"What thing?" Hugo's stopped making sense.

"Well, you know, I get on better with Mum, you get on better with Dad. Always have, nothing wrong with it."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

After another long time of Hugo sitting with me, holding my hand, he gave me a hug and left, mumbling something about coming to talk to him. He didn't even remember the pie.

I think I fell asleep after that, on my bed. It couldn't have been too long, though, because Mum said she'd be back by eleven, and she would've come up to see me. There was a knock on the door, though. I figured it was Hugo again, and called, "Come in."

It wasn't Hugo, though. It was Dad. I'm not sure how I felt about this, but I think I stopped breathing.

"Hey Rosie," he said casually, sitting down beside me, "I was just wondering..." his voice faltered, but until then he'd sounded surprisingly casual.

"Yeah?" I'm not sure if I wanted him to go on, really.

"Well, it's just, you left dinner so quickly, I..."

"Yeah?" His ears were bright red, and he was struggling to maintain a nonchalant expression.

"You didn't finish your pie," he finished lamely, and held the plate up in front of him suddenly like a shield. The ice cream had melted, but it looked at though he had replaced it with another scoop.

"Thanks, Dad."


End file.
